


You'll Never Leave Me

by MatsumotoYukino



Series: Random Stories My Brain Comes Up With [1]
Category: Original Works
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Multi, Verbal Abuse, but for the others, main character is a big ass douche, none of the characters are physicaly described other than tattoos and clothes, not really for the main character tho, nothing exactly explicit, so it's more referenced than anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatsumotoYukino/pseuds/MatsumotoYukino
Summary: He never intended to hurt her. Not originally. Not this much. But he got so used with playing with her. It was just so easy, no matter what he said to her, she would always come crawling back to him as if he was the centre of the universe. And that's the sad thing.In her eyes, hewasthe centre of the universe.Her universe.No, he never intended to hurt her.But he did.





	You'll Never Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first ever work here (not my first ever work published, I have one on my DeviantArt account), and it is inspired by another work I read here on A03, actually. I don't remember the name of it since I  
read it a long while back, and I honestly can't be arsed to look it up now.
> 
> Since it's my first work, I may not be the best (it has also been some years since I seriously wrote any kind of story, too), but oh, well, we all gotta (re)start somewhere, right?
> 
> So, there'll be no names in it, since this is one of the various random scenarios that just popped up in my head, and when those happen, I never have any names in mind, generally.
> 
> With that in mind, this story has four characters, two male and two female.
> 
> They will be referenced to as Him(the main character on this story, since this one is written in his POV), Her(the girl he hurt and eventually lost), another Her(she is the punk girl who saves the first girl being hurt) and the boy(the girls' adopted son).
> 
> But the rest, it will be pretty basic stuff in how it's written.
> 
> If there's anyone interested, I can write the POV of the other three characters too, and add them as other additional chapters in this work. No promises it'll ever be done, but maybe.
> 
> Anyway, this note is already gigantic and I doubt anyone will read it at all, so just let me say that I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you find ant grammatic mistake or misspelling, let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> English isn't my native language, to I make mistakes way too often.

He never intended to hurt her. Not originally. Not this much. But he got so used with playing with her. It was just so easy, no matter what he said to her, she would always come crawling back to him as if he was the centre of the universe. And that's the sad thing.

> In her eyes, he _was_ the centre of the universe. _Her universe_.

  
He met **her** first in high school. He was in his second week of junior year, and she was in freshman year. She had seen him first and had a crush already when he noticed her. He knew she did, it was obvious with how she was always looking at him with googly eyes and always hid behind her girlfriends whenever he looked at her. And when he'd send a smile her way, she would flush so much it went all the way down to her neck. It was adorable at first.

And then his friends noticed her too. He had never had a girlfriend until then, so they started to tell him to ask her out, but he wasn't interested in dating. And he tried to make it known that he had no interest in her. He treated her in the same way he treated other girls at school that he didn't know - the most interaction was a passing nod in the halls - but she was so lovesick, she never noticed any of that.

So, he began flirting with other girls near her, hoping it would just drive her out. It didn't. She was young, in love, and honestly, just plain stupid. At least, that's how he saw it. Her insistence of being near him - she would start to walk a bit faster in the halls to try to keep up with his longer steps, sit in the closest table and seat she could in the cafeteria, would linger to talk to her girlfriends around his locker between classes as often as she could - she had made a friend that was one year ahead of her, and this girl had a locker close to his -, arrive earlier at school to see him before class , walk slower to her bus to see him just that bit longer - and honestly, it was starting to annoy him.

He had given _so many signs_ that he didn't want anything and she should just move on to another boy - one on her year, even - but she never saw any of them. Sure, she looked sad as she would watch him flirting with girls in the halls between classes, but one look at her, and she would look the happiest he's ever seen her as if she had just won the lottery. She would look even sadder whenever she noticed he was avoiding her, but the moment she managed to caught up to him, it was as if nothing happened. She would look downright hurt - as if someone had just punched a _fist_ into her chest and had a tight grip on her heart - whenever he'd hurry to pass her in the halls and avoid to ever touch her, but the moment even the sleeve of his jacket would brush her's, she'd flush all over again and smile so wide, her face nearly split in two.

After two months of avoiding her, he was honestly beginning to find her creepy - his friends would call her his crazy stalker girlfriend before laughing until they were wheezing and gasping for breath. He never saw _why_ it was so funny - just staring at him and then flushing and looking down as if her shoes were suddenly the most interesting in the world. So, he'd avoid even looking at her.

But, as the days went by and his friends kept joking about how he had her wrapped around his finger and could make her do anything he wanted, he'd started listening to them. He never meant to start playing with her, of course.

>   
_But he did._

  
He'd start to watch her discreetly from the corner of his eyes, and as her ways to just literally stand closer to him continued, he noticed she'd started to doll up to come to school. Her favourite was a discreet just-below-the-knees-length dress - a blue one - with black leggings and brown boots. She'd tie, curl or braid her - rather shorter - hair differently each day, she'd year make up, and she'd try to look as if her mind isn't going to _fry _from being near him.

Slowly, he'd start fo find her reactions funny, and he'd soon start to want to see more of these reactions, which led to him _'start to finally notice her'_. He'd soon find himself wanting to get a reaction from her. Not because by some miracle, he was developing feelings for her - _this isn't some fairytale. At least not for him_ \- but because it made him feel good to know he was getting these reactions from someone.

  
It made feel in control. It became oddly...

>   
**Addicting**.

  
So, with time they developed - without her even realising it - a pattern in how they interacted. She'd try to stand near him. He'd smile at her before classes, she'd blush and hide a cute smile behind her hair. He'd do to class, she'd go to class. He'd flirt with a random girl in the halls between classes where he knew she would see, she'd be sad -sometimes she would ever tear up-. This would repeat until lunch. He'd sit at his table, she'd sit as close as possible without actually sitting on their table. He'd talk to his friends while sending little smiles at her, she'd light up like a Christmas tree and flush as red as Rudolph's nose. He'd go to the rest of _his_ classes, she'd go to the rest of _her_ classes. He'd leave the school without even a sign on acknowledgement in her direction. She'd walk to her bus looking defeated. Rinse. Repeat.

And so it stayed for the rest of the year, and, to his surprise - _was he really surprised, though?_ \- the next year started and there she was. The summer didn't diminish her feelings, nor did it diminish the control he had over her. And it was that day that his friends' words - <strike>_"You got her wrapped around your finger, dude!" "Yeah, she'd do everything for you!"_</strike> \- came back to him. He then realised, they were right. He knew it should have stopped him, he should not do what he did for years to her, but the knowledge that he basically held her future in his hands awakened something in him. _And he wanted to control her_.

And so the pattern from the previous year started again. And it went on until Valentines on that year when he found a pink envelope inside his locker. When he opened it, there was a sweet message saying how she'd liked him for ages, and that she would really like to be his valentine. It wasn't signed, but he _knew_ it was from her. He'd seen her handwriting before, when she went through her binder while talking to her friends, and he could feel the faint smell of her perfume - the same she'd used for the majority of the year before -, which became a familiar smell, since she'd basically bathe in the thing and then would stand close to him for as long as possible. He didn't like the smell of it. It was too sweet.

So, during classes, he wrote her a reply asking to meet her at the back of the school during lunch. He didn't sign his either, but he made sure to use a paper she knew he had - a light blue post it with some superhero logo watermarked on it - he doesn't remember which one now - and slipped it on her locker. He knew she would go to her locker before going to lunch, so he sat at a set of stairs at the back of the school. It didn't take her much time to arrive. She looked tired, so he knew she ran all the way to where he was, and she was shaking like a leaf.

He asked her out that lunch, and she said yes <strike>_-"Of course she did."-_</strike>, so they traded numbers, and they went back to their tables. That night they talked about their date, and once it was decided where they would too - the movies - they began talking at school too. She was blushing the entire time, and he could hear his friends snicker loudly at her from behind him.

>   
** _She never noticed._ **

  
There was only one word to define their date to him. _Boring_. They went to the movies as they said they would, but she was silent the biggest part of it. Any question he asked, she'd barely mutter a half-thought about and stuttered response. He, being a gentleman, let her choose the movie, and - surprise, surprise - it was some romcom he never spared even half of his attention to. She sat by his left -_shaking and blushing the entire time_-, but he spent the whole movie silently flirting with a girl - a very attractive brunette - on his right. Sometime during the movie, she rested her head on his shoulder, but he didn't even feel it. He was too busy whispering to the other girl while he lightly squeezed her thigh - this other girl had the shortest miniskirt he ever saw any girl wear.

Him and the brunette made out during half of the movie.

>   
**_She never noticed_.**

  
After that date, to anyone who would ask, they were dating. She was so proud to call herself his girlfriend. If only she knew at the time what her loving boyfriend was doing. Whenever she wasn't with him, he'd flirt with other girls. He'd get their numbers, he'd go to dates with them and introduce them to others as <strike>_-"This is my girlfriend for tonight. Don't tell my daytime girlfriend though!"-_</strike> his girlfriends. Rumours started in the school that she was being cheated on. She never believed a _single one_ of them. After all, why date her if he didn't love her, right? He even heard her muttering to herself about it once _-"No, they're all just jealous because he's my boyfriend now. He's handsome, so it makes sense they would want him to themselves."_\- and he couldn't believe how easy was to lead her on. How naive she was.

>   
**_How stupid she was_.**

  
Soon, her friends were trying to convince her it would be better for her to end things with him. He was just _pretending _to like her. He was _cheating_ on her, _going on dates with different girls behind her back_. She's just a _toy_ for him. But all they had were rumours. None of them ever _saw_ him on dates with girls that weren't her. He made sure of that. So, to her, they had no proof. They were lying, he _loved_ her. Oh, how wrong she was. And how right they were. They could say whatever they wanted about him, she would never believe them. After all...

>   
_ **She never noticed** _ **.**

>   
**_Until she did_.**

  
They were older now - have been together and "_going strong_" for five years now - when she slowly started to change. It was subtle at first, he didn't even realise it. They were sharing an apartment near their college. He was on his fourth year, she on her second. He asked to "move in with him" three years into their relationship, after all, that's what couples do when they are together for a while, right? Of course, it also made it easier for him to keep an eye on her, make sure she wouldn't realise anything. His life would be boring without her there for entertainment.

After a while, though, he did notice she was different. Quieter, kept more to herself, looking out the windows of the apartment into the distance. Although, she still gave him her undivided attention if he ever wanted it. She would greet him when he came home after her from college, would bid him a sweet bye when he left to _<strike>-go on his dates with random girls he found around campus-</strike>_ spend time with his friends from his class at their apartment.

At first, she'd wait for him awake for his return so they could have dinner together and then go to bed together and '_cuddle'_ \- she would always cling way too tightly to him -, but then, after a while, she stopped waiting, and he would come home to her asleep. This should have worried him. He was her boyfriend. But he just saw this as more freedom he could have. More time for his dates. _More time to have sex with them_.

So he did what seemed more logic to him. He went for his classes, came home, and left to see <strike>_-his girls-_</strike> his friends. He started to come home later and later. Some nights he never came home, but slept at random girl's apartments/dormitories after a night having fun at a club, getting drunk, having sex - lots of sex, that's all he had in mind those days - with them, and slept in their beds, his arms wrapped around girls that weren't her.

Of course, she'd ask where he was, but he'd just brush her questions off with some pre-rehearsed answer <strike>-</strike>_<strike>"We lost track of time and it got too late." "We had too much to drink, didn't wanna risk driving back." "Oh, one of my friends from high school came to visit so we lost track of time." "Oh, I didn't tell you? I thought I told you we were all going to spend the night over ar J's this night, we have a big project coming up, we were working on it all night."</strike>_<strike>-</strike> and doesn't matter how many different answers he gave, or how many similar answers he gave, she'd believe all of them. She had always been so gullible.

Of course, she only became more and more distant. Quieter and quieter. He knew she might catch up to what their relationship really was. _Abusive_. For years, she was innocent and _<strike>-stupid-</strike>_ naive enough that he could just lie to her face and she'd believe. But she was an adult now. She was in her early twenties. It was time she woke up to reality.

He never expected her to confront him as she did. So direct, so determined. She told him she has seen him in a cafe with a girl. He told she was just a girl he shared a class with. It wasn't a lie. he just never told her the full story, of how he slept _<strike>-very much naked-</strike>_ on that girl's bed the same night she saw them in the cafe, or how he had his hand on the girl's inner thigh as they talked over what they had learned in the class that day.

Or how he know she was there. It wasn't easy to miss someone in a bright blue dress stop walking outside the big window of the place you are in and stand there, staring at you. He also didn't tell her how he had kissed the girl several times after she had left the window. Nor about how almost being caught on a date with another girl by his girlfriend had excited both him and the girl. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was to avoid getting too excited and having trouble _standing_ later. They spent the rest of the day in the other girl's bed.

Things went like this for months. He'd go on dates. She'd see them. He'd go straight to his date's place, and when confronted later, he'd say it's just a classmate of his. It was never a lie. They were his classmates, but they were also attractive and were basically offering themselves to him -_<strike>he knows it was a lie he told himself, **he** was the one who pursued the girls-</strike>_ he'd have to be an idiot to deny free sex, right?

It wasn't long for the fights to start. He would come home -at this point he didn't even try to pretend, he'd come home smelling like the girls' perfumes, his hair a mess, sometimes with lipstick stains on his clothes <strike>_-not just the shirts-_</strike> and very visible hickeys on his neck and chest. She'd scream, throw things, hit him, push him, saying she was done and that she was finally leaving him. He'd just laugh and, while looking into his eyes, he'd say something both knew to be the truth.

>   
_ **She wouldn't.** _

  
Because she needed him to function. She needed him in her life. After so long, there's _no way_ she'd have the strength to leave. He would say she was free to leave anytime she wanted. She knew where the front door was, it was her apartment too, after all. _And she would._ She would walk out, slamming the door on her way out. He would get a bath, and once he came out with clean clothes, he would walk slowly back to the living room, and there she'd be, crying her eyes out.

He would just lean on the doorway and watch her for minutes without saying anything. Just seeing the effect he still had in her life. The grip he still had on her very heart. How he held her soul in his hands, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. He could hold it close, whisper sweet nothings and soothe the pain, comfort her, _<strike>-fuck-</strike>_ 'love' her, or he could squeeze it as hard as he could. Watch as it writhes in pain. Dig his nails into it. Whisper obscenities, degrade it, humiliate it, throw her insecurities at her, her weaknesses, watch her break in front of him only to gather her into his arms again and heal all her wounds, make her believe they were a happy couple _<strike>-"This is just a fight, darling. Couples fight sometimes, it's only natural."-</strike>_, and she'd crumble back into his arms.

No, she wouldn't leave him. She wasn't strong enough. She never would be. She was just his toy after all. His little doll to break a put together again. Like a lego tower that a child can build and knock it back down with ease. But he never touched her. Oh no, he never hurt her physically. That it's something no one can accuse him of. No bruises, cuts, finger marks, scratches or broken bones were left on her during their fights. If he physically hurt her, it'll be easier for other people to take her away from him. And that just can't happen. After all, she belonged to him, no one would ever take her away. She wouldn't go with them. She loved him, she needed him. He was the centre of her universe.

After standing there for some minutes watching his <strike>_-work, his masterpiece-_</strike> girlfriend cry, he'd sit beside her on the sofa and hug her, to which she would hug back quickly. And whisper halfhearted apologies he never meant, empty, meaningless sweet nothings, and 'I love you's he didn't feel. She'd say all that back, but she meant and felt every single word. And he knew it. As much as she knew he never meant his own words.

This went for some more months, then she started to change again. Her sulking mood started to slowly lift. She would smile more. She gained back the pounds she lost in the previous months. She looked healthier. Happier. He soon learned why.

She had made a friend. A girl who managed to transfer colleges in the middle of the semester and was in one of her classes. They started talking, and soon, they were hanging out almost every day. They fastly became best friends. This girl was nothing like his girlfriend. She was outspoken, didn't take shit from anyone, had brightly coloured hair -it was orange the first time he saw her-, piercings, tattoos, faded jeans, combat boots, spikes everywhere possible on her clothes and a piercing on the left side of her upper lip.

A punk girl, who had an old Harley-Davidson. He didn't know which one specifically, nor did he care to discover. It wasn't important, just another girl who will give up on any friendship with _his_ girl once she realises the mess she is. Just like her old 'best friends' back in high school. They gave up long ago. It's better this way. The fewer friends to mess with her head and try to take her from him, the better.

Except, she didn't give up. She even came into their apartment one day. He knows because he found one of her spiked cuffs she always seemed to wear. They had another fight that day. He didn't like strangers in his apartment, she knew this. He yelled at her for the first time that night. She was scared, terrified even, but she screamed back ar him, even louder _<strike>-"YOU DON'T OWN OR CONTROL ME! I CAN BRING WHOEVER I WANT IN HERE!"-</strike>_, and he couldn't help himself, and yelled even angrier -_<strike>"BRING WHOEVER YOU WANT IN HERE? WHO ELSE HAVE YOU BROUGHT IN HERE? HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING SOMEONE IN HERE TOO?"-</strike>_ and the fight only got worse. He never hit her, though. no, he was smarter than that. He knew, if he hit her, her new _<strike>-"That punk bitch is who she's been fucking I know it."-</strike>_ friend would get the police involved and will take his toy away.

Things just got worse and worse. He'd find things from that <strike>_-bitch-_</strike> girl in his apartment, he'd see her bike outside when she went out. He was getting sick of her presence everywhere. But he couldn't risk attacking and hurting any of them. He'd get locked up is he did, he just knew it.

But she got into her head. She _finally_ managed to do it. One day, after classes, he came home to find her quickly bagging her few belongings that weren't also his. She turned, wide-eyed, terrified. He wasn't supposed to see her leaving, then, huh? Well, he did. He didn't say anything, just took off his jacket, hung it on the coatrack, nothing different from what he would do. But he never took his eyes from her as the packed everything she'd take and walked to the front door once she heard a horn outside.

So, she came to pick her up, then. He should have known, honestly. She was acting different since her new friend entered her life. He stood there, unmoving in the entrance hallway near the door. She was scared to pass by him. She was looking at the ground, clutching her back's straps to tightly her knuckles were white. So, for a reason he still can't explain, he walked backwards, letting her pass and run off outside. He followed her, of course. He followed her down to the lobby and out into the streets, leaving the door to their _<strike>-his-</strike>_ apartment wide open. He should be putting up a fight _-he wouldn't force her to stay. Not because he wanted her to go, but because there were too many people around them. He'd get in trouble if he did-_. Should be playing with her as he did countless times before. Should cry and beg for her to not leave him because he loved her and she loved him, should find a way for her to stay so their lives could continue as they were -he, with a faithful girlfriend at home while going out on dates, so he could come back and play with her heard for a while until he got bored.

It was perfect. His little doll would wait for him, he would come back, and they would pretend to love each other. Well, he'd pretend to love her, at least. He shouldn't just be standing there, watching her walk away, but as much as he tried, it was as if his brain had shut off when he saw her taking her things. So, weirdly passively, he watched her take some steps away from him, only to pause, turn back to him and say the words he never thought he would _<strike>-he never wanted to-</strike>_ hear.

> _ **"We're over. I'm leaving you now. For real this time. I'll be free from you."** _

And still numb, he just said the only thing he knew how to say to her in these moments.

> _ **"You'll never leave me. You'll always come crawling back to me. You're mine, don't lie to yourself. I'm the one who will truly always have a grip on you. If not physically, I know mentally and emotionally, you'll come back to me, you want it or not. But that's the thing, isn't it? It's been a while you didn't want it anymore. But still, you'll never be free of me. You'll never leave me."** _

And with that, with her eyes looking the most scared he's seen _-because she knows it is true. He'll always be there in the back of her mind-_ she turned and walked to the girl leaning on the old Harley-Davidson. The girl took her bag, open one of the saddlebags on the back of the bike, took a helmet and replaced it with the bag of belongings.

She then helped his girlfriend -<strike>_well, ex, now-_</strike> put on the helmet, but before her face was completely covered, she pulled her own helmet up from her face, and kissed her, smiling after she pulled away. Then, both pulled down their helmets, strapped them and mounted the bike, taking off into the busy street. Even in the distance, he could still clearly see the hand raised in his direction, the fingerless glove and black painted nails raised with an obvious intention.

>   
_**The bitch was flipping him off.**_

  
He never expected to see her again after that. His life spiralled into a pit of self-pity at how _pathetic_ he'd been, just watching as that bitch did exactly what he said he'd never let anyone do. She took her away. He trashed his apartment that day. Broke everything that was hers that she left behind. Thew it all away, made sure there wasn't even a shadow of her there. It would only remind him how he let her escape. The apartment was quiet now. Too quiet. He didn't like it.

After some weeks, he noticed. He actually missed coming home and seeing her there. He didn't love her then and still doesn't love her now, but she was familiar, something he had in his life since junior year, and now, there's nothing. As the weeks of living there alone passed, it seemed as if his mind cleared more and more. The more he thought about everything he did, only one thought remained, repeating in his head <strike>-_'My God, what's wrong with me?'-_</strike>. As long as she was around, she was a distraction from himself. Now that he's alone, it becomes clearer and clearer that he is truly fucked up. She gave him nothing but love, and he gave her an abusive boyfriend.

Slowly, it was as if that boy from years ago came back, and the more he did, the more horrified he became with himself. Disgusted. Disappointed. _Angry_. Soon, all that anger he directed towards her, with nowhere else to go, directed itself towards himself. His dates became more and more frequent, and soon he had a new girl every day. But he still felt nothing but anger at himself.

Weeks pass, and that anger dissolves into self-pity. He fucked up the one good constant he had, and now, there was nothing. Soon, he stopped leaving his apartment. His friends _-it's a miracle that they're still there for him-_ soon came to see him, and once they found him sitting on the ground hardly even blinking while staring at a wall, took him into their home -after that, he moved in with them.

He had been sitting there for days -he doesn't remember the exact number of days- and he had forgotten to eat and even bathe himself. He still doesn't remember why he just sat there, but he's just glad his friends still cared for him even after all the drama they had to witness.

They talked him into seeing a professional, and he did. He slowly got better. He wasn't back to being that boy he was before -how could he with all he did in his consciousness?- and he never will be, but he's better.

She never left his mind, however. He thinks she never will. In the end, he was right. She will never leave him. He just hopes they don't cross paths again, for both of their goods, but mostly her. He put her through enough shit already.

> Yeah, it's better if never meet again.

  
He saw her four years later, on a rock music event, of all places.

His friends all but dragged him out of their house - _and his own self-pity too_ \- to a small event in the middle of absolute nowhere full of obscure, unknown bands. It wasn't a bad event or anything, nobody was drunk or under the effect of anything, so it wasn't that surprising he found her here - _especially considering how she left, and with who_ \- but what shocked him the most other than the fact he never expected to see her again after everything, was how she looked.

It felt as if the moment lasted only a second and years all at once. He's still not sure how long he stood there, watching everything happen.

At first, he didn't recognise her. And how could he? She looked so different. When he first caught sight of her that day, she had her back turned to him. Her hair had grown longer, and was now a lovely vibrant shade of blue - _"Azure blue", he thought. "She always loved that shade."_ -, and it was kept separated into two twin french braids pulled to the front of her body, and through the more open - _"But not revealing. She never liked revealing clothes."_ \- back of her tank top, he saw two big wing tattoos. They looked so beautiful, so full of detail they looked as if they could just pop out of her skin and turn into real wings at any second.

When he was thinking about approaching her -he'd been trying to find a date to finally get her out of his mind- he heard two distinct voices calling out - one younger than the other -, and she turned back. As she did, he could've sworn he felt whiplash from the shock he felt. Her eyes, as green as ever, looked the same, but different. Her face looked the same, but different. It was bright. She was bright. Full of life. _Free_. She looked the same - as beautiful as she was four years ago -, but different - she looked happy. Bright -it was the best word to describe her that day-. As vibrant as the colour in her hair. Her very presence radiated such positivity again - she had truly freed herself from him as she said she would the last time they ever spoke.

And then the smile came. The biggest one he's ever seen on her. Even bigger and brighter than when he finally asked her out. So beautiful in fact, it scared him. It scared him that she might recognise him. He knew that, if she did, there would be no fond memories there to accompany his face in her mind. No happiness in seeing him, only years of abuse and such a big emotional rift between them, it swallowed her own emotions.

But with all this turmoil in his mind and heart, he noticed something. She was looking in his direction, but not at him. No, she was looking behind him. With that, he turned to look over his shoulder. And there she was. She also looked the same yet different. She had a couple more tattoos - a set of mirrored bluebirds a bit below her collar bones, colourful ocean waves finally completing her right arm sleeve, a star on the right side of her stomach and a tribal band around her left bicep -, some new piercings on her ears and another on the other side of her mouth _-"Angel bites, huh? Fitting" he thought. Fitting indeed, she was the saving angel in their story.-_ and her hair was a bright red -_ Pink?"-_ this time and it was in a low mohawk now.

Then, he finally saw the boy. Around sixteen. Younger than you'd expect to see in such a place, but teenagers tend to go where they are told not to, so he wasn't all that surprised. He wasn't all that tall -"_He'll have some more years for that, though."_\- and was dressed just as everyone else here seemed to be. Dark colours, leather, jeans, chains and spikes. He proudly sported the brightest green mohawk he's ever seen _-"And he should be too, his hair is quite long, after all."-_, the most impressive shade of amber in his eyes _-"Almost orange. Gold? Gold."-_, so many freckles it looked as if a galaxy had made itself at home across his cheeks and nose, and a spiky piercing on his left eyebrow.

Who was he? She didn't have any siblings - an only child as far as he was aware - and he was a teenager, it wasn't as if her mother suddenly had a second child. Of course, he could be her brother too, after all, he knew nothing of her other that she took her out of their relationship and into a new one like some knight in shining armour. If the knight in shining armour was a punk girl in an old Harley-Davidson, of course.

Again, time seemed to move too fast and too slow at once as they passed him without sparing a single glance. Maybe she didn't see him - in fact, he hoped she hadn't. Things would be easier that way -. He knew he should just leave right then, but something was keeping him there. As much as he willed his body to move, his legs to walk away and his head to never turn back, he couldn't. So, without really knowing why, he turned again, this time seeing then all together. Laughing.

Even if he didn't really have the right to, he felt happiness in seeing them. He knew nothing would ever make up for what he did, there's no justification to how he treated her. But he was glad. Glad she found a safe place. Found someone to give her heart to that won't let it fall to the hard ground and shatter as he did. Of course, as this happiness grew on him, so did the sadness. It took him losing her to realise how important she was. How much he actually liked coming home to her. Both of these emotions only grew as he heard the boy talking to her.

> _"**Mom**, me and Ma found the perfect place to watch the shows! It's right by the food stands, but you can totally see two of the stages!"_

Mom, huh? So, she did it. She has a family now. She always told him how she longed to be a mother, how she wanted a family of her own. But he didn't. It's only fitting that she started a family with her. They all look like they fit together. Puzzle pieces from three different jigsaws that, even if they won't form a whole, classic picture, they still fit. A mosaic of stories and different colours.

He stood there as he watched them walk away towards the place the boy was still excitedly talking about with exaggerated movements and a loud voice. He practically vibrated with excitement and honestly, despite everything going on in his mind at the moment, he felt a smile creep up on his lips from watching him - "He's a good kid."

Yes, she was happy, walking off with the people she loved. None of them ever even noticed him there. Maybe - his mind told him - it was better this way. There would be no more hurt to anyone anymore. He'd also heal with time. He knew that.

And it was with that in mind that he turned one last time.

>   
_And he left._


End file.
